


What To Do When You Are Dead (Especially if you aren’t)

by firehawk05



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Fake Character Death, Fluff and Crack, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M, Swearing, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 03:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15921624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firehawk05/pseuds/firehawk05
Summary: For reasons unknown, but possibly the ones related to needing an extended break, Charles fakes their deaths.  Hijinks of the  ghost busting and exorcist sort.  Fluff, crack.  Possibly set after Apocalypse. Rated because everyone swears.Basically a reaction to turtletotem's sad ficlet"What to do when you're dead"which was in turn based on the same scenario as Synekdokee's ficlethere





	What To Do When You Are Dead (Especially if you aren’t)

**Author's Note:**

> [ ] refers to telepathic speech  
> bolded text indicates some sort of relative time in fic.

“ _Many of those that sleep in the dust of the earth will awake, some to eternal life, others to reproaches, to everlasting abhorrence”_

_Daniel 12:2_

…

 

 **Now** . **Ish**

 

Erik has always known that his options for an afterlife wouldn’t include paradise. But frankly this was getting ridiculous.

 

“Charles Francis Xavier. How was what I proposed two weeks ago worse than this?”

 

…

 

**Two weeks ago**

 

“Greetings Professor Xavier, my oldest, deadliest foe!” Erik’s booming voice carries across the room  as he floats himself down throug the ragged hole in the ceiling. Charles looks up placidly from the box in his lap and meets his gaze. Erik can’t help noticing that said box has a suspiciously large red button on it.

 

“Your X men have been incapacitated and are powerless to save you!” Erik, removes his helmet with a flourish and raises a significant eyebrow. “We have unfinished business, you and I…”

 

“Yes yes. Erik. It’s all very well for you to come blasting in here on term break when we’re down to a skeleton staff. But. Really…”

 

[Did you bring all that I asked you to?]

 

[Yes. But. Charles. This is practically a scheduled kidnapping…]

 

[Nevermind all that.] Charles’ mental voice is positively effervescent with mischievous amusement [Do you trust me?]

 

[With my life old friend but] Erik walks nearer and puts a hand on Charles’ shoulder, feeling the rapport between them increase. Charles leans into his touch and radiates kilowatts of contentment.

 

The last thing he hears is an apologetic Charles in his head.

 

[Brilliant!  This, in all theory, shouldn’t hurt.]

 

There’s a click. And a muffled boom.

 

[Much]

 

With a roar of flame, the world goes white.

 

...

 

**One week and six days ago**

 

He struggles awake in a flurry of flailing limbs and tangled sheets.

 

One arm smacks against something warm, angular and vaguely familiar.

 

A faintly accented voice says. “Ow.”

 

The rest of the memories rush back. Including the most recent one of Charles taking advantage of the bomb blast to seize control of his power and build them a shield out of the stolen Vibranium. Vibranium he’d been specifically asked to procure.

 

He should have suspected that the man had been plotting something.  As his anger builds, Erik growls “What the fuck Charles?”

 

“Calm down Erik. You’re mostly alive, apart from a couple of superficial burns and scrapes. Not too bad considering that most people think we’ve been vaporized…”

 

Confusion burns to ashes in an incandescent rage, which is not at all assuaged by Charles beatifically guileless blue eyed smirk.  A smirk half hidden by the pillow Charles has propped his chin up on.  In pure frustration, he reaches out to swat his bed partner. Only this time much harder.

 

A crimson handprint slowly stains pale skin.

 

“Ow.”

 

[You do know I can't really feel that. I’m just saying it to humor you]

 

“Mark my words Xavier, if you don’t explain what the hell you thought you were doing…” Erik flashes him a menacing grin and a series of increasingly R rated images.  Charles shudders and licks dry lips.  There’s an unreadable but largely unrepentant glint in his eyes  

“I was going to explain anyway. But this might take a while. And involve some more flashbacks.”

 

[It might also be easier if I just showed you]

 

Erik rolls his eyes and waves him on.

 

…

  
**An indefinite amount of time later. But probably still one week and six days ago**

 

An exhausting parade of sleepless nights and hectic days of Charles trying to single-handedly micromanage the heck out of everything in the school flood Erik’s mind.

 

It would be funny if it weren’t... No scratch that. Once he ignores the painful progression from tea to coffee and finally to full on energy drinks, it’s positively hilarious.

 

He can’t help projecting his growing sense that all this is, frankly self inflicted.  Charles ignores him, pointedly. Until a particularly loud mental comment about someone’s burgeoning god complex starting to rival Magneto’s finally gets through

 

As he tries in vain to blink away the fog of foreign memories, Erik finally manages to claw enough of his mind back into to the present to say “So.  You’re telling me you’ve faked your own death, no. Our deaths, just so you could extend your leave?”

 

“Yes.” Charles sniffs, haughtily, “You didn’t have to put it that way. It’s not like I didn’t try to encourage the students and staff to be… more independent…”

 

“Actually.  You haven’t really. What’s it with telepathic types and control freakism?  Emma was almost as bad in the Brotherhood.”

 

“Speak for yourself.  Mr Supreme grand ruler of the magical mutant kingdom of I don’t know what was it again Genosha?”

 

“At least _my_ subjects can get on with the governing day to day without me having to _BLOW UP MY OWN HOUSE_ or _FAKE MY OWN DEATH_.  I thought you were Omega level?  Why not just I don’t know.” Erik wiggles his fingers at Charles in annoyance.

 

“Well.  I kind of also wanted to renovate this wing.  So. I figured. Why not? To be honest, it made a lot more sense in my head when I was…”

 

[Hopped up and hallucinating on Red bull?]

 

To his credit, Charles rallies magnificently, features settling into what Erik has come to recognize as his mildly vexed face of annoyance.

 

“Anyway.  Are you going to help me or not?  I mean, you already said that Genosha can take care of itself without you.”

 

“How on earth are you going to make sure no one finds out we’re not actually…” Charles smirks complacently and mimes a dismissive finger wiggle.  

 

“Oh no.  You’re not planning to do that… Seriously?  Did Apocalypse sneakily scramble your ridiculous moral compass?  Also, I can’t believe you made me say that.” Erik flops back onto the bed and presses his arm over his eyes.  “Come on. I’m supposed to be the morally flexible one. What the hell?”

 

“Oh pish.  Don’t be so dramatic.  It’ll only be until the wing is completed.  Plus, now that I’m not in charge, I can see how the younger ones step up.  In a sort of controlled manner. I promise I won’t step in. Too much. Unless it’s really necessary.  Don’t look at me like that.”

 

Erik rolls his eyes and rolls out of bed, heading to the nearest wardrobe.  He yanks it open to find an array of turtlenecks in various shades of charcoal and black as well as several neatly pressed khaki pants.  A pile of fresh fluffy white bath towels lies neatly folded in the corner of the cupboard.

 

[Toss me some clothes, while you’re up?]

 

“You had all of this planned didn’t you, you sneaky little bastard…” Erik mutters, aiming the ball of clothes at Charles’ head. But his lips twitch in amusement.

 

“In my defense, I wasn’t going to mind whammy you.” Charles squirms into a pair of boxers and hoists himself into his chair.  He holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “I swear. I was just going to argue with you until you eventually came around.”

 

“Fine.  I’ll help.  Until the renovation is complete.  But after that, you come with me and we have a real holiday.  And if I find out that you’ve been interfering more than what is reasonable, I’ll whisk you off sooner.”

 

Charles opens his mouth to argue, but manages to stop himself in the face of Erik’s stern expression.  He pouts. Only to find this has absolutely no effect whatsoever.

 

“Got it?”

 

“Fine”

 

[But we’re clearly going to have arguments about the definitions of reasonable.]

 

[Oh.  I’m always reasonable. You are the one who insists on arguing]

 

…

 

**Back to Now. Plus a couple of hours. Give or take.**

 

“No. No no no. The very moment I happen die, suddenly its house party time.” Charles lets out an aggrieved moan, “Also, in what universe is popcorn and chicken nuggets ever considered a balanced diet for healthy teenagers. This is absolutely intolerable.”

 

“Charles. If they can't wake up in the morning or if they wake up with aching heads and spectacular hangovers they’ll only have themselves to blame.  And what did I say about keeping out of it?”

 

“It doesn't change the fact that this behavior is unacceptable. All these years of careful meal planning and strict sleep schedules.”  Charles throws up his hands in disgust.

 

“You know. The offer to kidnap you still stands right.”

 

“I know old friend.” Charles picks a half eaten candy bar off the floor with distaste, “But it is clear that you and I have unfinished business here.”

 

Erik sighs, wondering how on he’d been conned into going along with this.

 

…

 

**Now. (But really a few days later)**

 

A group of excitable teenagers thunder past their room armed with an ancient vacuum cleaner. Strains of a very badly sung Ghostbusters theme song drift back along the corridor.

 

When the noise has died away, Erik cracks open the door and peers out.

 

A worried Charles looks out through his eyes.

 

[They’re going to rip the cord out of the socket if they continue running around like that.]

 

Erik rolls his eyes.

 

[Please. I’ve already unplugged it]

 

[Thank you]

 

“This is completely ridiculous. Why can’t you leave this to the builders and have a proper holiday.”

 

“I,” Charles says primly, arching an eloquent eyebrow, “wasn’t responsible for the floating pans that started the kids thinking the mansion was haunted.”

 

[I wasn’t the one who decided that he was and I quote “croaking for scrambled eggs wouldn’t you be a dear Erik and make me some?”]

 

[You said you locked them in their rooms so I didn't try to send everyone to sleep.]

 

[How would I know Ororo would go straight from the loo to the kitchen for a drink. I’m not the telepath here.]

 

Erik sighs loudly and growls aloud. “This is still ridiculous. I don't see why I should skulk around in my own house, just because SOMEONE can’t let go and hand over the reins…”

 

“Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying it.”

 

[And don't think for one instant that I wouldn’t notice you enjoying Peter’s eulogy, Mr Most Powerful and unpredictable, speechifying Apocalypse surviving meme. At least their meals are going somewhat back to normal now that Scott is back.]

 

[What. He’s a good kid. They’re all good kids.  And you know I am. Right that is. Plus you’re sidetracking me.]

 

“That’s it. Charles. You have two days to break the news to your students or we’re doing it my way.”

 

“Fine. Just give me a bit to pull together something.”

 

…

 

**Another day later**

 

A soggy and fuming Erik corners Charles in their suite. A rather sleepy and cranky Charles who has been in the throes of caffeine withdrawal since their so called “deaths”.

 

"Have I told you that this, skullduggery, is completely ridiculous."

 

"Only 268 times in the last hour." Charles moans. "I don't even know why I bother to count when my brain is all fuzzy."

 

"If Kurt tries to exorcise me with another bucket of holy water, I will not, I repeat, will not be responsible for my subsequent actions."

 

"Yes yes. I’ve set things in motion yes. I just need to quietly shift some funds so that we still have some spending cash. Its, just a lot harder to think without some sort of… stimulant. It’s almost worse than being dead." He gripes.

 

"Absolutely not. You were probably exceeding the recommended daily dose as it was before this."

 

"We’re mutants. There is no recommended daily dose." Charles whines, his pitch rising.

 

Then, with visible effort, he calms himself, projecting steadily. [Thank you for running in the cabling by the way.  And the piping.  I doubt they would have gotten it done quite as fast.]

 

Erik smirks, amused. “I’ll have you know, my cape is quite ruined.”

 

“Good. Ghastly thing that it was. Don’t know why you insist on wearing it.”

 

[By the way, do you think this auto-responder email is too much of a give away?]

 

Erik pauses mid-rant to glance at the screen. He scans it once and does a double take. As he reads it again, a slow smile spreads across his face.

 

“Oh. Really Charles?”

 

“Yes really. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do this.”

 

...

 

**Two minutes after autoresponder email is activated.**

 

_From: mystique at xfgc.com_

_Subject: What the ever loving fuck._

 

_From: charles at xfgc.com_

_Automatic reply: What the ever loving fuck_

Hi. I am dead. Needless to say, I will not have email access. Please direct all queries to Raven Darkholme (mystique at xsfgc.com)

 

_From: charles at xfgc.com_

_Re: What the ever loving fuck._

Raven. I’m so sorry. I’ll book you and Hank a room at the poshest hotel in the country of your choice.

 

_From: mystique at xfgc.com_

_Subject: re: re: What the ever loving fuck._

Presidential suite. Or I walk.

 

_From: charles at xfgc.com_

_Subject re: re: re: What the ever loving fuck._

Yes. Sure. I’ll even throw in the champagne for free. Please be in charge while I’m gone?

 

_From: mystique at xfgc.com_

_Subject: the things I do for you._

Ok. But can you switch the damn auto responder off already.

 

_From: charles at xfgc.com_

_Automatic reply: the things I do for you._

Hi. I am dead. Needless to say, I will not have email access. Please direct all queries to Raven Darkholme (mystique at xsfgc.com)

 

_From: charles at xfgc.com_

_Subject: Re: the things I do for you._

Oops. Sorry.

 

...

 

**The day they finish rebuilding. Incidentally also the day of the ultimatum.**

 

They’re standing in front of the newly rebuilt wing, enjoying the relative peace of a crisp autumn day. Erik has positioned himself behind Charles chair, one hand resting companionably on his shoulder.

 

From around the building, there comes a distant rumble of a teenage mob. Erik looks down, meeting a pair of familiar eyes, as blue and as calm as the sky.

 

[I think they’ve coming]

 

[Relax. I just sort of … called them.]

 

Erik sighs, saying “I hope you know what you’re doing that’s all.”

 

“Of course I do. I’ve never been clearer.”

 

[The resort in Bali is booked. I’ve got cash enough to buy us anything we’ll need once we're out of here. All that remains is for you to whisk us away]

 

“They’re here.”

 

A bunch of moody mutants eye them dubiously. Charles clears his throat and straightens his tie.

 

“So. It turns out we’re not actually dead, although the funeral was quite lovely.  Actually, it was all quite amusing up until someone dumped a bucket of water in a misguided attempt to exorcise someone.”

 

Kurt winces while Charles takes a deep breath.

 

“Which brings me to the main problem.  Honestly, did you think I’d let you lot get away with ice cream for breakfast for ever? Don’t even get me started on the … Hey, put me down I haven’t finished yet!”

 

“Hold your tongue Professor Xavier. We have unfinished business, you and I!” Erik booms as he lofts Charles’ and him off the ground.

 

And in a more normal voice he continues, winking at the crowd.

 

“We now return you to your scheduled kidnapping. Don’t blow up the house while we’re gone.”

 

“Remember to eat your veggies! And do your homework!” The kids groan unanimously. Erik rolls his eyes.

 

[One more word and I’m going to sling you over my shoulder and…] as Erik’s projection tails off into an embarrassing string of images, Charles quails. Ag least outwardly.  

 

“Shut up and fly.” He mutters, scowling.

 

His sending on the other hand tells a different story.

 

[But. You know, when we’re finally alone...]

 

[Finally. A proposal worth executing.]

 

...

 

**Bali.  The time is definitely and finally NOW.**

 

As they watch the sun dip below the horizon, the blazing orange fading to darker and darker purple of dusk...

As he listens to the waves lap on the shore far below their private villa...

As Charles reaches out and squeezes his hand radiating peace and contentment... 

Erik thinks, it might not be the afterlife, but even if it's only for a fleeting moment, it feels, like paradise.  


End file.
